My computer was released from the hospital tonight and I’m throwing a party! I never realized just how much we all used my computer until we lost it for two weeks.
I’m sure you’re wondering what’s been going on around here. Ok, you probably didn’t even notice I was gone, but don’t tell me that. I may feel bad.
Not much has happened around here.
I gave FringeBoy twenty bucks to go buy a rocket yesterday, because it is his goal for the eleventh year of his life to build and shoot off a rocket. Who am I to stand in the way of space exploration?
He and his friend with a matching flannel jacket took off to a boy’s model shop/toy store in town. They ran the entire way past the school, the library, the police station, a pizza place, and a salon. The arrived with red cheeks and frostbitten fingers only to be told they cannot buy a rocket until they are eighteen.
I wouldn’t sell two runny nosed boys with eleven hundred freckles between them a rocket either, but you’ve gotta help me. I realize rockets can be misconstrued as weapons; however, these boys turn everything into weapons. Have you seen the way they’ve been throwing ice-balls for the past three months? Please don’t ask our neighbor about the baseball turned weapon last summer.
Here’s my problem. If my kid can’t be kept busy blowing up rockets, he’s going to blow up my house, accidentally of course. Just last night my husband came up the stairs to ask me if I knew what my son was up to. Turns out he was mixing household products to create an organic homegrown acid that will burn through concrete. Sadly my maternal radar didn’t pick up an ‘acid alert’.
He needs that rocket or no concrete sidewalk in town will be safe. I’m going to come down myself and buy it, but I won’t run. We’ll have a launch party Saturday afternoon right after we shovel the foot of fresh snow predicted to fall.
You’re welcome to come.
Warmly (actually quite coldly),
Your neighbor with the rocket boy.
While FringeBoy has been up to his elbows in concrete eating acid, FringeMan has taken to wearing 3-D Buddy Holly glasses while he’s driving. The snow glare has been fierce in those in those three minutes a day the sun is out. He about jumped out of his new shades this afternoon when an oversized yellow plow truck came from all three dimensions and into his eyes. He’s getting quite the thrill from his new glasses.
FringeGirl made the papers once again. This time with her doll, Molly. That girl cannot be kept out of the line of a flash.
And me, well I’m being me, the wash woman.
I’m certainly glad to be back in blogland, but I need a favor from you all. My bookmarks ran away and took your blogs with them. Please leave me your url in the comments section so I can once again bookmark you.